


Brick & Wing

by thirdrateoracle



Category: 19天 - Old先 | 19 Days - Old Xian
Genre: Alternate Universe, Crime Fighting, Enemies to Lovers, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, I get burnt out if I write too much dark content, Kinda, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV Alternating, Sexual Tension, Swearing, Vigilante AU, Violence, listen there will be fluff to offset the violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-16
Updated: 2021-02-10
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:42:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 12,882
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28106463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thirdrateoracle/pseuds/thirdrateoracle
Summary: Separate, they were frightening. As a duo, they were cataclysmic; a destructive force to be avoided at all costs. They were Black and Red, death and fury, shadow and blood. They were danger personified with an arsenal and a mask to boot.But that was nothing compared to all four of them together.
Relationships: He Tian/Mo Guanshan (19 Days), Jian Yi/Zhan Zhengxi (19 Days)
Comments: 25
Kudos: 182





	1. Traffic

**Author's Note:**

> No one asked for this but the idea's been sitting in my head screaming since [That One](https://guanshanbabyfox.tumblr.com/post/614105104369516544/official-illustration-by-old%E5%85%88) official art was released. 
> 
> That being said it's been eight months and I have plans for this fic, so, stick around if you'd like. It's bound to be interesting.
> 
> Happy Reading!

Mo Guan Shan woke gradually. His first thoughts were fuzzy, intangible, his brain prioritizing the achievement of consciousness long before it bothered to trigger perceptive capability.

The thoughts after that were much more clear.

_ ‘Jesus fuck that fucking hurts’, ‘Who the fuck is that’,  _ and ‘ _ Where the fuck am I’  _ were all considered in rapid succession. It took him several seconds to process that there was an arm wrapped around his leg, another couple seconds after that to process the grip on his wrist, and another second after that to put together that he was being carried. 

The ride didn’t last long. 

Mo Guan Shan was thrown to the ground roughly. He didn’t have time to suppress the pained whimper as his injured ribs hit the concrete and he heard a man, presumably the one who had just dropped him, chuckle.

He was going to kill every single one of these bastards.

The damage they’d managed to inflict was impressive, really. He was pretty sure he hadn’t been injured this severely since…

_ Since He Tian, _ his brain supplied.

“The fuck did you just say?” a gravelly voice questioned. Mo Guan Shan honestly had no idea which one of his thoughts had managed to escape into the real world. 

“I honestly have no idea,” he said around a gag that he had failed to notice until that point. 

That wasn’t gonna last long.

“Yeah, that’s what I fuckin’ thought,” the guy sneered. Mo Guan Shan decided he would shoot this one in the stomach. 

“Tons, do me a favor and shut the fuck up? You’re taunting one of the top five most dangerous people on the planet, and we’re on a time schedule,” said some skinny fuck in the corner. The guy appeared to be messing with a light fixture and Mo Guan Shan glared at his back, which was how he caught the surprisingly subtle glance in his direction.

A smart one, then. 

Mo Guan Shan took a look around the room. There was a single, tiny, sad excuse for a window that was destined to make his life excessively difficult in the next half an hour or so and a small alcove to the left. Everything was concrete, and it smelled damp, so he assumed he was in a basement of sorts. 

Mo Guan Shan shifted loudly until he had the beanpole’s attention. If his mouth had been exposed he might have seen him smirk. As it was, the scrawny man was entirely unprepared when Mo Guan Shan jumped to his feet and took two quick steps towards him.

He hadn’t expected to get very far. The big guy, Tons, was on him almost instantly, throwing him to the ground again and wrapping wide fingers around his throat. Predictably, they constricted.

“Tons! Tons, no! Stop! We need him!” Beanpole yelled. Tons did not, in fact, stop.

“Tons! We NEED him! You have to STOP!” Beanpole continued in an increasingly panicked tone. Mo Guan Shan might have found the high pitch of his voice funny if he wasn’t busy suffocating. 

“Tons,” A new voice. That was a new voice. “You may release our guest.” 

The speaker sounded female. Her voice was calm. Soothing. Effective. Tons released him.

Mo Guan Shan focused on taking deep, unsatisfactory breaths through his nose. The gag thing really wasn’t working out.

To distract himself from his profound discomfort, he glanced to the side and clocked dark blue heels on slender ankles. That was good. She was the one he needed.

Tons clumsily removed himself from Guan Shan’s lap. 

“Stacy, is the broadcast ready?” the woman said. The sack of bones nodded.

“Should be.” 

“Lovely. Tons, get behind the camera, dear. You don’t want to be ID’d by the people looking for this man.” Mo Guan Shan held back what would have been a nearly hysterical laugh. They had  _ no idea _ .

“Countdown will begin at your signal, ma’am,” Beanpole said. Mo Guan Shan didn’t look up to find out what the signal was, but it must have happened. The countdown began.

  1. Mo Guan Shan closed his eyes.



4\. He quickly took stock of his injuries. Fractured ribs, severe concussion, a gunshot wound in his left bicep, a cut on his back that would definitely need stitches, and now a damaged windpipe. His clothes were ripped. His hands were bound. He was gagged.

3\. He thought about He Tian’s reaction; about the way the man would scan his body, making a mental list of all the visible injuries and then tell him to strip. He thought about warm showers and sore muscles.

2\. He thought about the razor blades taped to the inseam of his underwear.

1\. He thought about the wire in his ear.

“We’re live, ma’am,” Beanpole murmured. Guan Shan opened his eyes. The ceiling was grey and moldy. 

“Look at the camera for me, Red,” the woman said. Mo Guan Shan visually tracked a crack in the surface. 

“I said _ look at the camera _ ,  _ Red _ .” Mo Guan Shan discovered a spider in the corner. 

“Fine,” he heard, followed by the sound of heels on concrete.

_ Oops,  _ he thought, right as one of those heels connected with his head. The room spun and she didn’t give him a chance to recover before he felt surprisingly strong hands grab him under the armpits.

It took him several moments to process that he was screaming around the gag as his ribs were violently jostled, and the woman chuckled as she dragged him across the floor, propping him up against the wall. She grabbed his chin.

“The camera, dear,” she said, angling his head towards the device. He stared emptily at what he thought might have been vaguely camera shaped. “Good boy.”

There was a stinging sensation as she reached up and ripped the duct tape off his face. Guan Shan couldn’t help but smirk watching the woman remove the cloth soaked with his blood, saliva, and just a little bit of vomit. She grimaced at the item and threw it to the ground. He smacked his lips twice.

“You disgust me,” she said. Mo Guan Shan shrugged.

“Hey,” she continued, “can you do something for me?”

He stared at her blankly. 

“Can you scream pretty for me? Real loud, like you have a chance of being heard,” she said. He was opening his mouth to respond when she pulled a knife out of her sleeve and laid it on his stomach.

The cut was long, spanning from his hip to his belly button, but not overly deep. He snapped his mouth shut, forcing his scream to become an anguished, prolonged grunt. The woman frowned at him.

“Well that wasn’t what I meant at all,” she said. Mo Guan Shan either blinked or passed out. Regardless, when he opened his eyes again the woman had acquired leather gloves and a pair of needle nose pliers. 

Guan Shan put together what was about to happen just as she reached for his bound hands and, fuck, was he not looking forward to this.

A phone rang. 

Mo Guan Shan tried very hard not to show any sign of relief. He kept his body taught, his eyes wide. A trickle of blood escaped his ear and ran down the side of his neck.

The woman glanced at him before standing and making her way back behind the camera. 

“Hello, Black.” she purred, answering the phone and placing it on speaker. 

“Evening.” came He Tian’s voice, tone as flat and bored as ever. Mo Guan Shan started acting.

“BLACK!” he yelled, “BLACK, WE’RE AT-” Tons ran over and put a hand over his mouth, smashing his head back against the wall. 

“Shut. The fuck. Up.” he said. Guan Shan tried not to roll his eyes. “Can you be quiet, or do I need to bring her-” her nodded towards the woman, “back over here?”

Mo Guan Shan shook his head rapidly, causing the man to smirk.

“Good.” the hand was removed and Tons sauntered away. The stupid fuck probably didn’t even realize he’d exposed himself on the broadcast.

“How can I help you, Black?” the woman asked, not taking her eyes off Guan Shan. 

“You have something I want.” He Tian responded in a deep, sullen tone. Mo Guan Shan bit the inside of his cheeks to keep from smiling. He was 90% sure that was a line from a Batman comic. 

“Mmmm,” the woman hummed, thoughtfully. “And what will you give me for it?”

He Tian responded with silence, presumably thinking about his answer to the question. He sighed heavily.

“I don’t know... Red?” he asked. Mo once again fought off an eye roll. He sniffed.

“Yeah, Black?” he said weakly. His voice was a wreck from the asphyxiation, which really added to the overall dramatic effect.

“Any ideas?”

Mo Guan Shan pursed his lips then nodded to himself. “Yeah. A few, actually.”

“Any you’d like to share? It may be the last thing your partner gets to hear from you,” the woman said sweetly. Mo Guan Shan wrinkled his brow in thought once more.

“Yes,” he said eventually. “I’m pregnant.” He Tian made a strange, abortive noise over the phone. The woman smiled at him.

“Funny boy.” 

“Wait,” said Tons, drawing everyone’s attention. He was staring at Guan Shan with wide eyes. “Are you actually?” 

Guan Shan blinked at him, glanced at the equally dumbfounded skinny guy who was still in the corner, blinked again. 

“Are you fucking-”

“No, he is not pregnant.” interrupted the woman. She didn't look happy. Guan Shan snorted.

“Wait, are you threatening to  _ kill  _ Red?” He Tian said through the phone, voice unnaturally high. Mo Guan Shan had to duck his head to hide his grin.

“Yeah! That’s right!” Tons chimed in.

He Tian gasped. “You wouldn’t!” Mo Guan Shan was going to die. He covered his laugh with a loud cough.

“Stacy,” the woman ignored them both. 

“Countdown on your signal again, ma’am,” Beanpole responded, doing a fantastic job of maintaining a neutral expression. Guan Shan looked up through his lashes and watched the woman raise a hand. 

“I’m giving you three seconds to reveal yourself and your two allies, Grey and Yellow. If you fail to do so, Red will die,” She said. He Tian remained silent, and the woman put up three fingers.

“Three,” Stacy began. Guan Shan’s earpiece crackled to life. 

“Two.” Guan Shan tensed his muscles in preparation.

“Now.” came He Tian’s steady voice. Mo ripped through the remaining strands of cloth holding his restraints together and flew. 

He ran first for Stacy. Because of his stature he would be the easiest to take down, but only if Guan Shan could get to him before he-

There. The beanpole hesitated for about half a second while drawing the handgun from the back of his jeans and that was all the time Guan Shan needed. He grabbed him by the wrist and turned into his body, effectively placing his finger over the other man’s on the trigger of the weapon. He turned them both easily. 

Tons was closing in surprisingly fast, but Mo Guan Shan was faster. He aimed and fired three times consecutively directly at the man’s gut. He didn’t wait for him to fall, just listened to his body hit the ground like a sack of bricks as he turned to aim for the woman who was… gone?

Mo Guan Shan immediately twisted his arm, forcing Stacy to release his grip on the weapon, who he then kicked to the ground. He put a foot on his chest and pointed the gun at his head.

“Where the fuck did she go?” he asked. The skinny man shook his head and opened his mouth to say something but then froze, eyes locked over Guan Shan’s shoulder.

Fuck. And they were so close too.

“Put the gun down, dear,” said a familiar, sickly sweet voice. He felt the barrel of a gun press into the back of his head.

“I bet I can shoot him before you shoot me,” he said, taunting. She laughed.

“Too bad I don’t give a fuck about the nerd then, huh?” He was disappointed in the woman. He’d only known Beanpole for like twenty minutes and could already tell he was undervalued.

“Too bad,” Guan Shan agreed. He felt a nudge against his head.

“Put down your gun,” She repeated. 

“What gun?” he asked. The woman growled and hit him over the head with the butt of the weapon, sending him to the ground. She kicked away his gun in the process, and he respected her for that decision.

She started saying something violent and threatening but Guan Shan tuned her out. He poked Stacy with his foot. Guan Shan had to give it to the guy, he was smart as fuck. Instead of turning to Guan Shan and giving away their attempt at communication, he just poked Guan Shan back. 

He kind of hoped Beanpole wouldn’t end up dead in the next ten minutes. 

“Rolling onto my back!” Guan Shan announced, while rolling onto his back. Conveniently, this placed him much closer to the man.

“Do _ not  _ move!” the woman yelled. 

“I’m not  _ moving anymore _ !” he yelled back. He was practiced in petty arguments thanks to He Tian. The woman tensed further at his volume.

“You know what your problem is, Red? You know why you’re the one we got our hands on and not one of your friends? It’s because you’re an arrogant piece of shit. You walk around this town like...” Guan Shan tuned her out again. He wasn’t interested in listening to a colorful retelling of all of his perceived flaws. 

Taking advantage of the woman’s misdirected attention, Guan Shan quickly and subtly slipped a couple of razor blades into beanpole’s right hand. It wasn’t much, but it was everything he could spare. He turned his attention back to the sermon of one.

“...ws flash! Not everyone is as painfully hubristic as you! I’ve got backup on the way as we speak and not even you can win seventy five to one!” she said. 

“Are you sure about that?” he asked. She scoffed.

“Yes, I am confident you cannot beat seventy five heavily armed and trained operatives in a fight.” 

That wasn’t what he had been asking about, and he definitely could, but whatever.

“Fucking rude.” he grumbled, and then he was diving to the side to fetch his gun. She fired off two shots in his direction faster than he’d anticipated, grazing his calf with one, and he was forced to change tactics. He quickly rolled behind a large piece of equipment that looked similar to a speaker.

He took a moment to let the white-hot pain in his abdomen settle and to orient himself. His gun was too far away now; he’d just get shot if he went for it with her attention on him like this, and he was out of sharp objects thanks to his philanthropic streak. He couldn’t kill her without a weapon from afar, and he couldn’t get in close without receiving a bullet to the head, which meant he’d have to rely on He Tian for this one. 

Except he needed her to take about four steps to the right for her to be in range of that tiny ass window.

He stuck a hand out from behind the speaker and immediately the woman fired. No peeking then. Time for backup.

“Hey, Nerd!” he yelled, “You always been a tall and gangly fuck or did you have your ankle biting days like the rest of us?” There was a long bout of silence in which Mo Guan Shan could only pray Stacy would get his underlying meaning. He was pleasantly surprised when, a few seconds later, he heard the woman screech in pain. 

He was not as pleased when he heard a gunshot and Beanstalk released his own wounded exclamation. He cringed and glanced over his cover. The nerd was still alive, good, and the woman was thoroughly distracted now, frantically grabbing at her ankle as blood rolled from where there was a razor blade stuck in her flesh. 

He wouldn’t get another chance. Ignoring his body’s protests, he rolled out from behind the speaker and ran directly at the woman. She looked up too late, panicked, and stumbled back a couple steps. He stopped dead.

“Thanks.” he said. The woman’s eyes widened and that was it. There was an audible pop from outside, followed by an odd sound as the bullet penetrated the woman’s skull, followed by her collapse. Mo Guan Shan remained where he was.

“The fuck took you so long?” he rasped.

“Traffic.” He Tian responded through his ear piece. 

Mo Guan Shan huffed a single laugh and then promptly lost consciousness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> He's just gonna take a little nappy nap now. He Tian come get him.
> 
> So my plan is to get new chapters up weekly, if not faster than that. The number of chapters is subject to change, but the question mark makes my brain itch so I threw in what felt like a reasonable number.
> 
> Thanks for reading!!!  
> As always, kudos and comments mean the world <3


	2. Oh

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Did you ever ask him how old he was?” Guan Shan asked. He Tian blinked at him.  
> “No,” he answered, visibly perplexed. Mo Guan Shan hummed.  
> “I think we should go do that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> He Tian and Guan Shan share a brain cell and this week it's Mo's turn.

He Tian walked in the front door of the building armed with nothing but a pistol he hadn’t bothered to remove from its holster. Mo always cleared his buildings, and if he hadn’t this time he would’ve told He Tian before passing out. The only living people here would be him, his Little Mo, and the owner of the voice he could hear through the earpiece begging Guan Shan’s unconscious body to not be unconscious anymore. 

Why Mo had left this man alive, He Tian had no idea. 

The journey to the basement was short and riddled with maimed corpses. He Tian surmised that Mo either hadn’t eaten before the mission or he’d come across some intel that struck a chord. Either way, the kills He Tian was seeing were uncharacteristically brutal, nearly reminiscent of the kills She Li left behind.

He made a mental note to ask his partner about it later.

He Tian reached the door to the room Mo was in and took a moment to listen. The strange man was still talking to Mo’s unconscious form and He Tian considered potential courses of action. He really would have liked to just bust in and shoot the guy, but Mo clearly thought he was valuable in some way, and he trusted Mo. At the same time, he couldn’t let the guy go. He’d seen Mo’s face unmasked, and that was just not ideal. 

He kicked in the door.

“Hands,” He Tian said, his pistol drawn and aimed squarely between the guy’s eyes. The man immediately raised his arms, eyes wide.

“Black?” he guessed, incredulous. He Tian hummed.

“Backwards until your back hits the wall. If you try to stand, or run, or reach, you'll die,” he responded, monotone. His personality was mostly fabricated when he was wearing the mask, but he’d meant what he’d just said. The guy seemed to recognize this as he backed up quickly, placing his hands on his legs, palms up, eyes down.

Definitely a smart one, then.

He Tian finally let his gaze fall to Guan Shan and pointedly didn’t react. Mo Guan Shan was undoubtedly the best close-range fighter out of them all. She Li got more kills but he had a propensity for sadism, making him unpredictable and unreliable. Guan Shan wasn’t a murderer, he was a survivor. He fought with a purpose, a certain drive, that no one in the business could match. 

He also acquired more injuries than anyone could imagine. 

He Tian crouched down next to Mo. The guy had somehow lost his jacket, shirt, and bulletproof vest, and now remained in only an undershirt that was mostly scraps of cloth. His visible injuries consisted of major bruising to the ribs and throat, a large cut on his side, a head wound, and a gunshot wound to the left bicep. That was ignoring the injuries undoubtedly hidden beneath Guan Shan’s clothes and on the other side of his body, not to mention the countless superficial cuts and scrapes.

Long story short, he needed medical and he needed it fast. He Tian looked up at the man against the wall.

After a moment of consideration he stood up and walked over to the dead body of a large man and started ripping off several strips of fabric from his T-Shirt. He talked as he worked.

“I’m going to blindfold and restrain you. You’re not going to resist. If you do, you will die,” he said, standing and approaching the man once more. He received a nod. He Tian did as he said he would in a fast, practiced manner and then walked back to Mo Guan Shan. He scooped the unconscious redhead up in his arms.

“Grab the back of my shirt and follow me.”

He listened to the man shuffle and waited until a shaky hand attached itself where it was instructed. He took a moment to appreciate how strange the situation was before he started towards the doorway.

He had no idea what he was doing.

  
  


\---

Mo Guan Shan woke up in He Tian’s bed. 

It wasn’t an altogether strange occurrence. He Tian lived in a relatively secluded building in an incredibly nice apartment. It was convenient to crash here after missions a lot of the time and, at some point, you stop pretending to give a shit about sharing a bed when your brain and muscles are screaming at you to  _ just rest _ . Missions are hard, mattresses are soft, injuries take precedent, that was the deal.

Waking up wrapped around each other occasionally was just an added plus.

Mo Guan Shan decided he was going to sit up about four minutes before he actually managed to sit up, and when he did obtain the position he had to wait another three minutes or so before he was capable of doing anything other than breathing shallowly.

Rib injuries  _ sucked. _

He listened closely and picked up the sound of a soft voice in the kitchen. He Tian, he assumed, updating He Cheng on the mission. He shifted until his feet hung off the side of the bed and then stood as best he could. It was not perfect. He was awkwardly hunched and his everything hurt like a bitch. His arm was in a sling and both his side and his leg were wrapped, but it didn’t matter. He was standing.

He shuffled around the bed and made his way to the bathroom.

Although he was not expecting the individual blindfolded and bound in the bathtub when he opened the door, he wasn’t really alarmed by the sight. It obviously wasn’t He Tian, which meant it had to be someone He Tian had placed there, which meant the person probably deserved to be in the position they were in.

Probably.

The guy had short, mousy brown hair and an incredibly skinny build. It kind of reminded Guan Shan of-

No fucking way.

Mo Guan Shan slowly backed out of the room and then soundlessly closed the sliding door. He turned around and found He Tian standing a few feet behind him, waiting. He gestured aggressively at the other man to go back to the kitchen and hobbled in after him.

“What the fuck is Beanpole doing here?” he whisper screamed. His voice was still a wreck. He Tian grinned.

“I didn’t know what to do with him. You kept him alive, so I couldn’t shoot him, but he’d seen your face, so I couldn’t leave him either.” Guan Shan gaped at him.

“The fuck do you mean you couldn’t leave him? You have a brother that is basically fucking omniscient, dumbass! Threaten his life, have He Cheng assign him a tail, maybe  _ don’t  _ bring him back to your permanent fucking residence,” he reprimanded. He Tian explored Mo Guan Shan’s face intensely.

“Yeah I definitely could have done that,” he said. 

They each managed to retain serious expressions for approximately two seconds before Guan Shan snorted and He Tian broke out into full-fledged laughter. Mo Guan Shan found himself watching. His friend’s eyes always wrinkled at the corners when he smiled like this, with all of his teeth exposed. He looked softer. Kind of silly.

Sometimes Guan Shan forgot how young they were.

“I can’t believe you ever survived without me,” he said. He Tian nodded, his laughter slowly tapering off.

“Yeah, well, I didn’t have to keep hostages in my bathtub before you,” he joked, but the comment gave Mo Guan Shan pause.

In all honesty he wasn’t entirely sure why he’d kept Beanpole around. One minute he’d been planning to use the guy as a human shield and the next he’d been arming him with his last line of defense. There was just something about the way he’d moved and hesitated. He hadn’t belonged in that room, but not because he was weak. It was more like-

“Did you ever ask him how old he was?” Guan Shan asked. He Tian blinked at him.

“No,” he answered, visibly perplexed. Mo Guan Shan hummed.

“I think we should go do that.”

He Tian looked at him oddly but offered no resistance, he merely gestured for Guan Shan to lead the way and then followed closely behind him. Guan Shan entered the bathroom first and seated himself on the toilet lid while He Tian stationed himself in the doorway. He cleared his throat. 

“‘Sup,” Stacy offered. Guan Shan was surprised by how calm he seemed.

“We need to ask you something,” he said. Beanpole’s eyebrows jumped under the blindfold.

“Red?” he ventured, tone oddly hopeful. Guan Shan glanced at He Tian, who just looked amused.

“Yeah,” he answered.

“Oh thank god. Where’ve you been? Are you okay? I’ve been worried, man!” Beanpole said with a somewhat nervous chuckle. "I kept asking Black about you but he's, you know, quiet. He gave me crackers though! I think they were crackers? Something crushed up in a bag that mostly tasted like crackers. And some water. It was nice." Guan Shan looked at He Tian again and mouthed  _ what did you do  _ ? He Tian shrugged, his expression as gleeful as it was devious.

“Okay,” Guan Shan said, definitely lost but beyond caring. “We need to see your ID.” There was a short pause.

“I don’t have one,” Beanpole said. Guan Shan wasn’t all that surprised, considering the guy was a criminal. He sighed.

“Then how old are you?” He decided to just ask. He Tian was good at catching a person’s tells, so he’d probably recognize a lie if they received one right now. 

“Sixteen in a month,” beanpole answered. Mo Guan Shan stared.

“What?” 

“I’ll be sixteen in one month,” the guy, no, the kid repeated. Mo Guan Shan thought about that. He did have a higher pitched voice. And though he was tall, he was unhealthily skinny, like he’d grown too much too fast. It kind of made sense. It would definitely explain the lack of an ID. He looked at He Tian, who gave him a nod that turned into a shrug. Guan Shan interpreted the gesture as an affirmation of Stacy's honesty.

“Restraints,” he murmured lowly. He Tian nodded and walked over to the boy, leaning down to untie the cloth holding his wrists together. He let the fabric fall into the kid’s lap. 

“Thanks,” Beanpole said. He Tian didn’t respond. Mo Guan Shan was confused until he realized Stacy had only ever met Black, who spoke only when it was a necessity. He felt himself frown. He Tian wasn’t meant to act like this at home, all dead faced and quiet. The kid needed to leave.

“Okay, Stacy. Listen to me closely. If you-”

“Move, or blink, or breathe, or cry, or run, or flinch, or speak, or think, you’ll kill me. I know. I genuinely don’t mean a single ounce of disrespect when I say this, but I am so fucking tired of having my life threatened in long speeches. Just give me the order and I’ll carry it out. Please,” he finished. Mo Guan Shan’s eyebrows furrowed.

“I was just going to give you directions to the train station from where we’re going to drop you,” he said. The kid paused.

“Oh,” he said eventually. 

“Yeah, oh.”

“Why can’t you just drop me at the- oh,” the kid repeated, presumably answering his own question. Guan Shan answered it anyway.

“Keeping our identities confidential is important,” he said. Stacy nodded.

“I know.”

“As in we have to do everything possible to keep them safe, regardless of the circumstances,” he emphasized. Stacy nodded again.

“I know.” 

“I don’t want to threaten you,” he started, “but you should know that at this point I have all the information I need to destroy you and everyone you love if you reveal anything you may have discovered about Black and I since we met. Do you understand?” he asked. Another nod.

“I understand.” Mo Guan Shan stared at him for a while longer and then sighed.

“Alright. Black?” He Tian looked at him. “Let's get loaded up.” He Tian nodded and bent down, scooping the kid up and slinging him over his shoulder. It looked alarmingly effortless, and Mo Guan Shan wondered how long it'd been since the kid had eaten a real meal. 

“Hey, Nerd,” he said. Stacy raised his head from He Tian’s back.

“Yeah.” 

Mo Guan Shan tried to figure out what he wanted to say but couldn’t.

“Never mind.” 

He followed He Tian out the door and turned off the bathroom light on his way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The crushed up bag of crackers was literally a crushed up bag of crackers. He Tian just wanted to make Stacy's life as difficult as possible because he's ~the worst~.
> 
> Next chapter should be up within the next couple of days! I wrote it super speedy quick. Zoom zoom. 
> 
> Thanks for reading!!!  
> As always, kudos and comments mean the world <3


	3. Between

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AAAAAHH I couldn't decide if I wanted to make this a crazy long chapter or a somewhat short one, but then I figured I could post a short one today and a longish one tomorrow. Yay for compromise. 
> 
> Happy Holidays to anyone who celebrates anything!!! I appreciate you all immensely. 
> 
> Happy Reading!

They drove for two and a half hours to get to a town that was only half an hour away, a strategy that would hopefully make it harder for Stacy to tell where he’d been held. Unsurprisingly, the idea had been He Tian’s. 

They parked the car in a mostly empty parking structure and then walked the kid, still blindfolded, a couple blocks over. 

“Alright. Listen up, Stella.” 

“Stacy,” the kid corrected. Mo Guan Shan fought off a grin. 

“Sure. We’re going to walk away, and once you can’t hear our footsteps anymore you’re going to start counting to thirty. When you reach it you can take off your blindfold and head where I told you. Understood?” the kid nodded.

Mo Guan Shan looked at him for a second before cuffing him lightly across the head.

“And don’t fucking die on your way,” he finished. Without giving the kid time to respond he grabbed He Tian’s sleeve and started walking back the way they’d come.

They didn’t actually leave, of course. From the top of a nearby building they watched Stacy gently remove his blindfold and then look around. He rubbed his eyes, sighed, and started in the direction Mo had told him to head. Mo Guan Shan nodded to himself, satisfied, until he noticed the kid’s walk contained a limp. He angled his body towards He Tian but kept his eyes on Beanpole.

“You treated his wound, right?” he checked. He Tian went rigid and turned to him.

“His what?”

“His gunshot wound,” Guan Shan repeated slowly, “Where the target shot him.” He Tian looked back out in the direction the kid had walked. 

“Shit.”

“He Tian,” Mo Guan Shan cautioned, slowly turning towards his partner, “I need you to be joking.” 

His partner stayed quiet.

“He Tian-” he began, voice taut.

“I didn’t know he-” 

“ _ He Tian!”  _ he berated, gripping the rail in front of him hard enough that his knuckles turned white.

“Fine! Yes. I was joking. It was a joke.”

“You were joking,” he said, scrutinizing He Tian’s expression. He Tian nodded. “So we didn’t just let a kid walk away with a-” He Tian shook his head.

“No.”

Guan Shan’s grip slackened.

“Okay,” he conceded, “then we can go.”

He Tian sent one last lingering gaze in the direction the kid had gone.

“Okay.”

\---

Mo Guan Shan was not sure when he’d dozed off on the way home. One moment he’d been arguing with He Tian over the acquisition of a pet and the next he was trying not to give away the fact that he was awake again as a familiar set of knuckles gently brushed against his cheekbone. He kept his breathing even and his eyes closed as the touch vanished and then reappeared in the form of a thumb tracing an old scar on his brow, followed by a curious brush against his chin. Eventually, the finger found its way to his bottom lip, tracing it lightly before the hand withdrew entirely.

Mo Guan Shan opened his eyes.

He Tian stared back at him. 

“We’re home,” he murmured.

Mo didn’t bother to respond, just threw open his door and made to exit the vehicle. His injuries were, predictably, unhappy with the sudden movement, and he heard himself make a noise somewhere between a whimper and a curse as he plopped back down into his seat.

He Tian was already out of the car.

“Fuuuuuuuck,” he ground out as He Tian appeared at his side.

“You’re very profane today, Little Mo,” the man said, bypassing any acknowledgement of the prior moment. Guan Shan felt a poke at his shoulder that was probably meant to act as a reassuring gesture. He let his head fall back against the headrest.

“This shit did not hurt this bad earlier,” he groused. He Tian hummed.

“He Cheng’s medical team gave you some pain meds. There’s more upstairs.” 

Mo Guan Shan was extremely pleased by this news.

“How long was I out?” He asked.

“A day. Maybe a little over.” 

Guan Shan thought about that.

“Was the mission-”

“Yes,” He Tian interrupted. “Jian Yi intercepted the broadcast, I took out the second building, you took out the first. Other than your little foster parent moment-” 

“ _ You’re the one that brought him- _ ”

“-everything went how it was supposed to,” He Tian finished. Guan Shan felt himself relax.

“We’re not reporting tonight,” he decided. He Tian shrugged.

“Okay. You need something to bite?” he asked. Mo Guan Shan squinted at him.

“What?” he asked, just as He Tian shoved one arm under Guan Shan’s legs and another behind his waist. He had about two seconds to grit his teeth again before he was lifted and his entire midsection felt like it was set on fire.

“ _ Fuck _ you!” he yelled. He Tian adopted an expression somewhere between a grimace and a smirk.

“Sorry,” he said. 

“The fuck you are,” Guan Shan grumbled. He Tian stared straight ahead as he started to walk, his smirk widening.

“I’m really not.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> He Tian wants a KITTEN, DAMMIT! I hope he gets one. 
> 
> I'd like everyone to know that the Zhanyi content is coming, okay, its on its way. First we have to do some plot building and then establish some Tianshan things and then we'll be there, I swEAR.
> 
> Like I said, next chapter will be up tomorrow or the day after. Happy Holidays to the celebrators out there!! Seasons Greetings to everyone else!! You guys are the best.
> 
> Thanks a ton for reading!!!  
> As always, kudos and comments mean the world <3


	4. Cinnamon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yo! Hope everyone's doing well and staying safe. You guys remember when He Tian wasn't feeling too hot and wore that mask to school? What an icon. 
> 
> Now I know what you're thinking. Third Rate, bro, why was the last chapter like 900 words but this one's like 3000? The answer to that question is: I am a fool. A goose. A silly willy. A noodle. I am trying my best and, occasionally, it is not very good. Regardless, I'm thrilled to be here. 
> 
> I appreciate you all tons. Happy Reading.

He Tian kicked open the door to his apartment, gingerly placed Mo Guan Shan on his feet, and then immediately fell to his knees. Mo Guan Shan stared at him unforgivingly for a moment before he walked off in the direction of the kitchen.

He Tian’s testicles were never going to recover. 

The journey back to the apartment had been a fast one thanks to Mo Guan Shan’s fury at being carried. His displeasure was initially limited to verbal threats of castration until they’d reached the hall to He Tian’s apartment, at which point he’d demanded to be set down. He Tian had, of course, refused, and that was when the threats evolved to fists.

Now, safely back in his apartment and boasting several new bruises, He Tian was starting to wonder if picking up the human embodiment of a feral fox was a wise decision. 

He stood, slowly, from his crouched position and ventured in the direction of clanging dishes and warm light. He found Guan Shan stationed at the oven over a pot of something or another and allowed his hand to brush the man’s back as he passed between him and the kitchen island. Mo didn’t react as he hopped up on the counter next to the oven, removing his phone from his pocket in the process. He was pretending to swipe through his feed when Mo shuffled past him to grab something from a nearby drawer, thoughtlessly placing a hand on He Tian’s knee as he did so. He let his eyes lose focus entirely and tuned into his surroundings for a moment. The oven to his right was emanating heat, Guan Shan was breathing steadily as he worked, and the cabinets were a solid force at his back. This was how things were supposed to be. This was good.

The scene wasn’t a new one. In fact, it was probably closer to a tradition. Even back when they’d first started, when He Tian was Black more often than he was He Tian and Guan Shan was still a stranger to trust, they’d found reasons to stay close after missions. It was an odd compulsion, the need to be within reaching distance of their partner, probably something to do with fight-or-flight responses and trauma, but it was one they both experienced. The people who saw them after missions, Zhan Zheng Xi and Jian Yi, He Cheng and Qui, they all assumed it was a matter of mistrust or mental strain, that He Tian and Mo Guan Shan were incapable of interpreting one another as anything but a threat after spending so much time fighting.

Both He Tian and Mo Guan Shan knew this assumption was entirely wrong. 

They were a damaged pair, yes, but in a very different way. In the midst of adrenaline crashes, when their bodies gave out and their brains were left to do the defending, they only knew each other. Everyone was a potential anomaly, an unpredictable force, except for the person who had fought and killed at their side. In their minds they had one confirmed ally, and a mind wired towards survival knows better than to separate itself from an ally.

They didn’t need each other, dependency was a death sentence and they both knew it, but the amount of  _ want _ they held for one another was always at its highest post-operation.

At first it’d been hard, figuring out how to be close. Guan Shan’s experience with proximity was limited to alleyway fistfights and hands holding him down, while He Tian’s was limited to manipulative efforts and holding a knife to someone’s jugular. It took a painful amount of trial and error for them to settle into something awkward as opposed to violent, a kind of curious orbit of one another. For them to be where they were now, still stuck in that strange orbit but no longer wary of it, for casual touches to be genuinely casual, it was an unthinkable result. 

He Tian was lucky.

“You fucking stink,” Mo Guan Shan said. He Tian hummed but didn’t look up. He made his eyes focus on his phone again and realized he was looking at a video of Jian Yi and Zhan Zheng Xi. He hit play and watched as they leaned, perfectly in sync, until their respective weights carried them over the edge of a skyscraper. Their airborne figures descended elegantly and then disappeared behind a shorter building. The video ended. 

“Go shower. Food will be ready once you get out.” He Tian looked up at his companion.

“But-”

“Shut the fuck up.”

“Mo-”

“Shower,” Guan Shan said, meeting He Tian’s eyes. He Tian knew that look. Mo’s brows were knit, his gaze steady, amber eyes suddenly darkened into something closer to bronze. He was not going to win this fight.

He Tian huffed quietly, a sound that would have been imperceptible to someone who wasn’t listening for it (Mo would be listening for it), and then hopped off the counter.

“Bossy Mo,” he murmured, knowing he would be heard. Guan Shan threw a chunk of potato at his retreating form and He Tian caught it one handed, instantly tossing it back over his shoulder. He didn’t need the ensuing silence to tell him Mo wouldn’t let the item hit the floor.

He Tian smiled to himself and peeled off his shirt as he rounded the corner to the bedroom. 

“You’re welcome to join me in the shower, Little Mo!” he said loudly, so the other man could hear him. He wasn’t expecting a response and he didn’t get one.

He really could use a hot shower, he realized, catching a whiff of his own odor as he threw his shirt to the ground. He didn’t bother closing the door to the bathroom as he entered. Guan Shan had seen him in every state of undress there was and, although He Tian knew he would never admit it, the man would appreciate being able to at least hear him.

He stripped and took a moment to examine his own body in the mirror. He had no serious injuries. A few scrapes, a bruise here and there, but for the most part he’d gotten out of the mission scot-free. 

The perks of being a sniper.

That wasn’t to say he was never on the field. He’d been a close range combatant when he’d worked alone after all, so when they worked with Qui or Zhan Zheng Xi, who both specialized in ranged combat, He Tian would occasionally jump into action with Guan Shan. The problem was that together they were too good. They could enter a building harboring twelve highly dangerous targets and half an hour later you wouldn’t know there had ever even  _ been  _ a building. 

Separate, they were frightening. As a duo, they were cataclysmic. Black and Red, death and fury, shadow and blood. Whatever name you assigned the pair was irrelevant, because in the end they would always fall under one easy label: dangerous. And danger was rarely what people wanted from vigilantes.

It was a very different story when all four of them were together.

He Tian had known Jian Yi and Zhan Zheng Xi for a long time. The Jian family was close with the Hes, and Zhan Zheng Xi was close with Jian Yi, which inevitably resulted in the trio spending most of their formative years together. He Tian knew how he fit with them, knew how they moved and where they covered. 

Jian Yi had always played a mental game, one that surpassed even the greatest conmen. He taunted his opponents, spoke to them until he fell on a topic that made them flinch or pause, and then he struck. Jian Yi only needed one opening, one shot, and he would get the job done, but his kills took time. That’s where Zhan Zheng Xi came in. 

Zhan Zheng Xi was second in marksmanship only to Qui, and second in strategy only to He Cheng. His militaristic approach to missions served the pair well, but his protective nature did not. Zhan Zheng Xi saw and covered every part of a battle field except his own back, and he’d have died a hundred times over if Jian Yi wasn’t strikingly, impossibly aware of his position at all times.

He Tian could remember watching an enemy sneak up on an unaware Xi only once. He also remembered Jian Yi reaching Xi’s position in less time than should have been humanly possible, and the look in his eyes as he slit the enemy’s throat, his usual grin replaced by an eerie stare as he whispered a few short words into the man's ear. 

It was easy to underestimate Jian Yi. It was easier yet to die because of it. 

He Tian slid open the glass shower door and got under the spray without testing the water. It was too hot. He didn’t lower the temperature.

Mo Guan Shan worked well with Jian Yi. He was good at sorting targets in the blink of an eye, leaving the intelligent fighters, the ones who would take time for anyone to take down, for Jian Yi and eliminating the rest. Both men were always on the field, though for very different reasons.

Mo Guan Shan had laid out two conditions when he finally agreed to be partners with He Tian. He could kill He Tian anytime he wanted, and he had to be on the same ground as the people he fought. Those points were sacrosanct, nonnegotiables. He Tian understood that, but he didn’t have to like it.

And he definitely didn’t like it.

Mo Guan Shan got the shit kicked out of him because He Tian was stuck behind a sniper rifle in order to appease the general public. It was necessary, he was aware of that, the only difference between vigilantism and villainy was public support, and considering Mo Guan Shan was a prior villain they had some catching up to do in terms of winning over the general public, but He Tian was quickly growing tired of watching Mo get hurt through the scope of a rifle. They couldn’t eviscerate opponents, but they couldn’t keep going the way they were either. Something needed to change.

He showered quickly, mindlessly soaping and scrubbing. He was almost finished rinsing the shampoo out of his hair when he discerned quick footsteps headed towards the bathroom. He tensed until he spotted a familiar, albeit blurry head of red hair in the doorway.

“Any idea where the fuck the cinnamon is?” Mo Guan Shan asked. He Tian went back to rinsing his hair.

“Did you check-”

“In the pantry, above the oven, and in the spice drawer,” Mo interrupted, fully entering the room to lean against the counter.

“I have a spice drawer?” He Tian asked. Guan Shan sighed.

“So you don’t know where the cinnamon is.” 

“Actually, I think I might,” he said, turning off the water. “Towel.” 

“Cinnamon,” Mo Guan Shan countered, placing the item in his hand as he stepped out.

“Wet.” 

“Hence, towel,” He Tian huffed a laugh and wrapped the fabric around his waist.

“Cinnamon.”

“Oh my fucking god, just tell me where it is.” 

“But where is the  _ fun  _ in that, Little Mo,” he teased, walking out of the bathroom.

“You wanna know what’s fun? Eating food that tastes the way it should because there’s cinnamon in it,“ Mo argued. He Tian walked to his closet. Guan Shan followed.

“I’m not saying you’re wrong. I’m just saying it’s more fun to get you all hot and bothered than it is to tell you where you might find cinnamon in my place,” he said, rooting through his drawers until he found a dark blue pair of underwear. He dropped the towel.

After several moments of unexpected silence, and once he’d donned his boxers, he turned and looked at Guan Shan.

The man was looking right back. 

Huh. 

He Tian watched auburn eyes journey from his feet to his knees to his hips, up and up and up until, finally, he met He Tian’s eyes. They stared at one another in silence until Guan Shan broke it.

“You should put something on those scrapes,” he said. He Tian nodded.

“Sure.” 

Several seconds passed and then He Tian turned to the back of his closet, where the drawers containing his sweatpants were. He didn’t think about which ones he was grabbing, just seized the first pair he laid eyes on and stepped into them. The drawer that held his T-shirts was behind Guan Shan. With this information in mind, he quickly formulated a plan.

He turned around and met Mo’s gaze again. The man’s expression was uncharacteristically blank, his arms crossed. He Tian didn’t break eye contact as he stepped forwards.

He advanced carefully, ensuring his footsteps were practically inaudible and that his movements remained predictable. He kept going until he reached the space in front of Guan Shan and then went one step further, putting them just short of toe-to-toe to one another. He dropped his gaze and, in a nearly identical reenactment of what the other man had done just seconds earlier, began a scan of his body. 

He took his merry time, crafting a mental list of injuries as he went. A toe rubbed raw, a bandaged cut on his shin, a shallower cut on his thigh, a yellowing bruise on his hip. Guan Shan was clothed now, but He Tian remembered the tears in his clothing from before, knew what each one meant. He stopped at Guan Shan’s abdomen.

“Let me take a look,” he said. He didn’t wait for a verbal response, just reached for the bottom of the man’s shirt and then paused. Not long, a second at most, but Guan Shan was a close-range combatant, and He Tian was very close. If Guan Shan wanted to kill him, he wouldn’t need a full second.

He Tian was still alive.

He lifted the shirt. 

He kept his face carefully neutral. The bruising was extensive, spanning from his top left abdominal to right below his armpit. It was a splotchy purple and looked incredibly tender. He Tian would give it a day or so before it started turning less attractive hues of green and yellow. 

He couldn’t stop himself from reaching out and tracing the edge of the injury with his fingertips, was pleased when Guan Shan’s skin erupted in goosebumps at his touch.

He glanced up and met Mo’s eyes, discovered dilated pupils and clenched jaw. He Tian took a step closer and hiked the shirt up just a little higher. A hand met his bare chest.

“He Tian…” Guan Shan murmured: a warning. He Tian moved his face closer, allowing his lips to just barely graze the red head’s cheek as he made his way to his ear. 

“You’re in the way,” he whispered, placing a feather light touch to Guan Shan’s hip. He felt the man’s shaky exhale on his neck.

“And you’re a fucking asshole,” Guan Shan said. He Tian chuckled. 

“Then why are you still here?” Guan Shan was quiet for several long moments before, in a move that made He Tian freeze, he gently caressed the skin under his hand with his thumb. 

It didn’t stop there. He Tian held his breath as the hand smoothed over his collarbone, past the area where his shoulder met his neck, and finally tangled itself in the hair at the base of his neck. He pulled until, in order to keep from falling into his friend, He Tian had to place a hand on the drawers behind him, effectively trapping Guan Shan. 

He was not prepared for the warm breath at his ear.

“Because I need the fucking cinnamon,” Mo Guan Shan whispered.

He Tian hated him. 

Two hands found his chest again and applied light pressure. He moved back and glared at Mo Guan Shan, who crossed his arms and glared right back.

They seemed to be at an impasse. 

“Tell me where the cinnamon is and I’ll let you get a shirt,” Mo Guan Shan proposed. He Tian stared at him.

“I don’t need a shirt,” he said, tone heavy. Mo Guan Shan squinted at him.

“He Tian...” he said. He Tian smirked. “He Tian, no. You need clothes.” 

He Tian made a mad dash for the door. 

He should have known that, even injured, Mo Guan Shan’s reflexes would be at full capacity. The man intercepted him easily and, fully aware that He Tian would be thinking of his injury, threw him to the ground. 

He Tian hated him. 

Mo Guan Shan pointed at his face.

“Cinn. A. Mon.” he threatened. He Tian scrunched his face at him and refused to respond.

“No!” Guan Shan scolded, “Tell me!” 

He Tian sighed and let his gaze slide to the ceiling.

“’sinthesilverwaredrawer,” he grumbled. 

“He Tian, we deal with explosives for a living. Whatever the fuck you just said, you know I couldn’t hear you.” He Tian fought off a smile.

“I said it’s in the silverware drawer.”

“Why the fuck is it- never mind.” He Tian heard Mo turn around and walk out. He remained on the floor, considering his ceiling. It really wasn’t half bad. Very white. 

“Stew’s ready, dumbass!” Guan Shan yelled from the kitchen. He got up.

“What kind of soup has cinnamon in it?” he yelled back. Mo Guan Shan grumbled something angrily but otherwise failed to respond.

He Tian loved him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tian :)  
> wants Mo's  
> Heart <3  
> but Mo  
> Just Wants  
> The Cinnamon :(
> 
> Haha yea ANYwho, I'm visiting my sibling for a few days so I'll be back to posting weekly. I'm super eager to write as Jian Yi, and I'm bonkers curious to see how I'll manage getting into Xi's headspace, so the next couple chapters will likely be from their POVs. For the most part. Probably. Mostly. 
> 
> Thanks for reading!!!  
> As always, kudos and comments mean the world <3


	5. Doorbell

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This update is a little later than I wanted it to be, so I apologize for that, but I'm learning what works for me. I'm new here. We're trying new things. It's exciting.
> 
> Happy Reading!

Mo Guan Shan set his bowl down on the table across from He Tian and pointedly didn’t look up at him as he took his seat. As used to He Tian he was, and as familiar as his gaze had become, Mo still wasn’t always comfortable under it; still occasionally felt hunted by those dark grey irises. 

He rooted around in his stew until he discovered a large chunk of beef, which he immediately stuffed into his mouth. He made sure the food was only halfway chewed when he looked up to acknowledge He Tian. 

“What,” he deadpanned. He Tian smiled at him.

“Nothing, Little Mo. I just like to look at you,” he said. Guan Shan rolled his eyes and swallowed. 

“Well look later. Eat now or your shit’s gonna get cold,” he told him, rooting around for another piece of beef. 

“Is that an invitation?” 

“No, that’s an order,” he replied, shoving more food in his mouth.

“Which part?” 

“You know which part!” he admonished, picking up his bowl.

“I know which part of you I’d like to look at later, if that’s what you mean.” 

Mo Guan Shan choked and spilled broth on the front of his shirt.

He set the dish down hard and examined the now soaked fabric on his chest. 

“My  _ shirt!”  _ he yelled, aggressively gesturing to the spot. He Tian looked down at the shirt, back up at his face.

“ _ My _ shirt, actually,” he said, signature smirk firmly in place. Guan Shan felt his face grow warm.

“Fuck you!” he said, pushing his chair back and standing. “The shirt would be fine if you weren’t so fucking stupid anyway,” he said, starting to walk towards the bedroom. He suddenly recalled their most recent conversation and froze. He turned to look at He Tian, who’s gaze was fixed much lower on Mo’s body than it should’ve been. Mo felt his face grow warmer. “If you move I will cut off your dick.” he growled. He Tian’s eyes snapped up to meet his.

“Okay, Little Mo,” he said, looking entirely too pleased with himself. Mo glared at him and turned back around.

“Don’t expect this shirt back either,” he grumbled. He heard He Tian chuckle quietly as he exited the room.

Guan Shan was in the closet deciding between a dark maroon t-shirt he was pretty sure he hadn’t seen He Tian wear before and a light grey long sleeve he definitely had seen He Tian wear before when the doorbell rang. The sound was as surprising as it was confusing. The only people who bothered to visit He Tian’s apartment were door bangers, lock pickers, and/or key owners. The doorbell was practically ornamental at this point, and everyone knew it. 

He threw on the maroon t-shirt and quickly made his way back to the dining room. He Tian, for whatever reason, was still sitting at the table eating his stew.

“Did you answer the door?” he asked.

“Nah,” He Tian answered, popping a carrot into his mouth. 

“Why the fuck not?” 

“You told me to stay here,” He Tian answered. Mo Guan Shan considered ways to kill a person with chopsticks and came up with a decent number of methods. Satisfied, he made his way to the door. 

He swung it open easily, expecting a delivery man or disgruntled neighbor, and instead discovered skinny limbs and scared eyes.

“Hi,” Stacy said.

Mo stared at him. 

“Uuuum…” The kid shifted uncomfortably.

Mo continued to stare. He was not sure how Stacy had discovered their apartment, but he  _ was  _ sure that he’d spent far too much of his night dealing with immature, dangerously skilled idiots. He wanted to finish his stew and go to bed.

“No,” he said, and slammed the door.

He walked back to the dining room.

“Who was it?” He Tian asked. Guan Shan shrugged as he sat down.

“Wrong apartment,” he said. He could feel He Tian staring at him again. “What?” he asked, refusing to look up at him.

He Tian’s gaze stood fast. “Who was it?” he repeated.

Mo Guan Shan internally groaned. Successfully lying to He Tian took far more effort than he was prepared to provide this evening. 

“The kid,” he admitted.

He Tian was quiet for a moment. “Hm,” he said eventually. Mo nodded once.

“Mm,” he echoed. There were several seconds of silence as they both considered the information.

Their chairs scraped the floor loudly as they stood in unison.

“We need to kill him,” He Tian said.

“We are not killing him.”

“If we don’t kill him, we’re done for. We can’t have a kid walking around knowing who we are and where we live,” He Tian said, turning towards the door. 

“He’s fifteen. We are not killing a fifteen year old,” he argued. He Tian scoffed gently and started walking.

“You have a problem with killing minors suddenly?” he asked. Mo followed him quickly.

“No, I have a problem killing a fifteen year old kid who helped me not die- Stop!” he exclaimed. He Tian was within a few steps of the door, his arm extended, hand reaching for the handle. 

Mo didn’t think about his actions, just solved the problem the way he knew how to solve problems and tackled He Tian.

His ribs smarted as they both crashed to the floor. He Tian didn’t wait to start moving; was halfway out of Guan Shan’s grip before Guan Shan managed to shove a knee into his groin. The act provided him with the few seconds of pause he needed to solidify his grip on the man’s wrists. He pressed them into the ground above their heads. 

He huffed a few times and tried to convince his brain to stop sending pain signals to his abdomen. It didn’t work, and he had to focus on his next exhale to avoid making an embarrassing noise.

He Tian took the opportunity to shift his leg, and Mo wasn’t prepared when the man bucked, abruptly throwing him off his body and to the side. He felt He Tian’s arms around his arms and waist, softening his fall, but also holding him immobile. He squirmed violently in the hold, which did little beyond force an extremely quiet, pained gasp out of him. 

He felt the exact moment his brain shifted out of sparring mode and into survival mode, interpreting the harsh pain in his ribs as a sign that he needed to fight his attacker much harder than he was. His world narrowed down to his body and his assailant’s. He tried to wriggle out of the hold once more, and this time the person holding him must have heard his gasp because their grip loosened marginally. 

Mo immediately ripped his right arm out of the hold and reached back to grab their head. They attempted to recoil, but couldn’t get far enough away to avoid his hand altogether, and Mo felt his nails scrape soft flesh. The person huffed a strange, sharp breath through their nose and Mo brought his hand back where he could see it.

There was blood under his nails and on his fingers.

He blinked at it and breathed heavily for a moment. Both his mind and body were fiercely conflicted, struggling to reconcile the knowledge that this was He Tian with the compulsion to fight until he didn’t have to anymore. They had a word for this, for when they were sparring and things went wrong, but he couldn’t think of it in this moment, his brain simultaneously exhausted and working on overdrive. He squeezed his eyes shut. 

“Brick,” he heard. The word was uttered soft but clear; no need for alarm, no room for misinterpretation. Something about it sounded right, so he nodded. The arms released him.

Mo Guan Shan instantly turned to face He Tian. The way he scanned the man now was entirely different from earlier. There was no leisure to his actions, no consideration beyond ensuring it was in fact the person he needed it to be; that there was no threat. 

It was all there. He still had the same stupid haircut and the same obnoxious arm tattoo. His eyes were still grey and his limbs still long. The only difference in his appearance lay on his cheek, where there were three parallel, heavily bleeding scratches. Mo reached for them. Stopped just short of making contact. Used the opportunity to take stock of He Tian’s current facial expression. The man didn’t look mad. More blank, than anything, which was not an unfamiliar look on He Tian. Mo Guan Shan decided that, at least in that moment, a neutral expression on He Tian could actually mean neutral feelings. His thumb had just barely managed to smear a drop of blood that escaped the lowest scratch when the doorbell rang again.

Mo Guan Shan quickly retracted his hand. He looked down at his lap.

“Have him come in or people will see him,” he said just above a whisper. He Tian stood and Mo stared at his slippers from his seat on the floor. When Mo Guan Shan didn’t say anything else after a few seconds, Tian walked to the door. 

“You,” he heard He Tian say darkly. Mo recalled once again that the kid only knew He Tian as Black.

“You!” Stacy responded enthusiastically. Mo Guan Shan cringed. 

“Come in,” He Tian said, pulling the kid in by the arm and closing the door firmly behind them.

“It smells good in here! What’d you guys make?” Stacy asked. Mo examined him. The kid was looking around eagerly but there was a certain edge to his movements, like he was late for something.

Mo Guan Shan stood.

“Why are you here?” he asked. Stacy opened his mouth to reply but He Tian didn’t give him the chance.

“We have to kill him,” he stated blandly. Mo Guan Shan felt his old temper flare suddenly.

“How about we let him explain how he even found us first?” 

“It doesn’t matter. We need to-”

“WE’RE NOT KILLING HIM!” Guan Shan yelled. He Tian’s eyes widened for a single second before his expression leveled out entirely. He nodded once, walked back to the dining room table and sat down, his back to the room, posture deceivingly relaxed. Mo Guan Shan took a deep breath and then looked at Stacy.

“You don’t even know our names, right?”

Stacy waddled in place. “Uuuuuum….”

“Stacy,” he reprimanded.

“I definitely know your names,” the kid breathed. Mo Guan Shan took a moment to process that.

“How do you-”

“He lost the tail.” Guan Shan heard behind him. He Tian’s voice was empty. Mo Guan Shan grit his teeth.

“The fuck does that mean?”

“It-” Stacy was cut off again.

“It means he either killed or managed to evade up to three extremely well trained men. It means he’s not just a kid,” He Tian turned to look at Stacy from the side, “he’s a hell of a lot more important than that.”

Mo Guan Shan looked between He Tian and Stacy several times before he finally settled on Stacy. Stacy looked up at him.

“Why are you here?” Mo repeated. Stacy reached a hand up and scratched at his temple, his expression suddenly somewhere between guilty and anxious.

“I really, really need to talk to you guys.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tian: I have one idea.  
> Mo: No Murder.  
> Tian: I have less than one idea.
> 
> Like I mentioned before, I apologize for being a little late on this update. I'll be honest with you guys, I wrote this chapter twice. The first time was from Jian Yi's POV but I stared at it for a few days and decided I didn't like how it worked with the plot. Life has also been all life-ee at me lately and balance is h a r d.   
> That being said, I think I'm going to change to updates every other week.   
> Not all the time, I have a tendency to binge write so weekly updates will still occasionally occur, but with my life situation there are some weeks when it's simply not tangible for me to release an update, and I want to make sure what I do produce is good, not just fast.
> 
> I appreciate you all immensely. I hope everyone is safe and healthy.
> 
> Thanks for reading!!!  
> As always, kudos and comments mean the world <3


	6. Tests

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yo! It's been a hot second but we're back. Good to see ya. 
> 
> Happy reading!!!

The first test Jian Yi failed was in second grade. The teacher hadn’t intended for the test to be a difficult one. In fact, looking back, Jian Yi wasn’t even sure it was meant to be a test, but he’d taken it as one at the time, and in his mind he’d failed it.

He remembered the day clearly. It was a Tuesday, his favorite day of the week, and he was wearing a light blue shirt, his favorite color at the time. He’d known something bad was about to happen the moment the teacher called him over to her desk. She rarely did that unless he was in trouble or he was being picked up early. Which, really, just meant he was in a different kind of trouble.

He remembers gripping the bottom of his t-shirt hard as he approached the desk. He remembers how it was wrinkled later when he got to He Tian’s.

“Jian Yi,” she’d started, her long nails clicking loudly on her keyboard as she typed, “where is your home?”

Thinking about it now, Jian Yi realized the woman was probably seeking a very simple answer. His address, perhaps, or nearby landmarks. But as a second grader he hadn’t thought in these terms. The woman had asked where his home was. He’d learned that a home was a place where someone lived and was safe. Therefore he needed to provide the name of the place where he lived and was safe.

Except there wasn’t one. 

There was his house, where his mom was occasionally found but where he often felt alone. There was the He’s, where there was family dinners and He Tian, but also training and pain. There was Zhan Zheng Xi, but he was pretty sure the teacher wanted the name of a place, not his friend, so he stood there. He stood there long enough for the teacher to look up at him in confusion and ask again. Long enough for her to scold him for wasting time. Long enough that, eventually, he was forced to provide her with the same answer his brain had provided him.

“I don’t have one.”

Looking back on that moment, Jian Yi knows he was wrong; knows that if he’d had a little more time to think he would have realized it even then. 

“You okay?” he heard behind him. He thought about the question. In front of him was a very familiar gate, entirely black, the He initials carved smoothly into it. He backed up until his left shoulder met a solid right one.

“Promise me,” he said.

“Promise you what?” Zhan Zheng Xi asked. His voice sounded just a little too far away, so Jian Yi turned around and looked up at him.

“Promise me you’ll never get the haircut you had in fourth grade again.”

Zhan Zheng Xi stared at him for a moment before smacking him upside the head. Jian Yi yelped.

“Heeeey! You know, you won’t be allowed to do that once we’re married! Someone will report you for domestic abuse!”

Zheng Xi walked away.

“I’m serious! Hitting people is wrong! It is immoral and unrighteous. As a pacifist myself-”

Jian Yi cut himself and glanced to his left, where he thought he’d seen movement. He scanned the area quickly. There was the expected trees, well groomed shrubbery, and private drive, but nothing living. 

“Can we go?” Zhan Zheng Xi asked. The gate had opened while Jian Yi had been distracted, and he was standing just on the other side of it. A long, winding path stood behind him, leading to an equally superfluous mansion. Jian Yi hurried to catch up.

“You know, I’m thinking we have the wedding in the spring,” Jian Yi said, following Xi at a distance that anyone else would find annoyingly close. “That way it won’t be too hot, and there’ll be flowers and everything. I also think we should consider the mountains. It would be colder, but it’d be great for pictures, and we like mountains.”

He stuffed his hands in his pockets and placed his chin on Zheng Xi’s shoulder, plastering the front of his body to the back of Xi’s. The entrance was still far.

“You know what else I’ve been thinking about? Our wedding party. Who’s going to be your best man and who’s going to be mine, ‘cause-”

“Mo Guan Shan.” Zhan Zheng Xi cut in. “I get Mo Guan Shan. He Tian will be yours. I’m not dealing with him.”

“But that’s not fair!” Jian Yi wined, “He’ll probably bring you homemade cookies or something...”

“He Tian might bring you something.”

“Like what?”

“Like a small dead animal he finds on the side of the road on the way over.”

Jian Yi considered this as they walked. The entrance was quickly coming into view.

“Do you think he’ll skin it for me?”

Xi shrugged. “He might.”

Jian Yi considered this as well.

“I hope he skins it for me.”

“If he doesn’t we can just skin it together,” Xi said. Jian Yi’s eyes widened.

“You’d skin a small dead animal with me on our wedding day?”

Zhan Zheng Xi shrugged again and then stopped walking, forcing Jian Yi to stop as well. He peeled himself off of Zhan Zheng Xi and stepped to his side, their shoulders brushing. They stared at the door in front of them.

“Can we get a dog in a few years?” he asked, only half paying attention to his words as he said them.

“Sure,” Xi responded, sounding equally distracted.

“See, Little Mo,” Jian Yi heard behind them, “they’re getting a pet.”

Jian Yi turned to face He Tian. The first thing he noticed was the three, relatively deep, somewhat inflamed scratches on his cheek. The second thing he noticed was the bags under his eyes. The third thing he noticed was Guan Shan. The redhead had stationed himself behind He Tian, still competing for the title of “World’s Most Conspicuous Shadow” Jian Yi assumed, and was sporting his own, far more extensive set of visible injuries. Jian Yi snorted.

“You guys look terrible!” he stated gleefully. He Tian adopted a scandalized expression and angled his head towards Mo.

“I thought you said my hair looked okay,” he stage whispered. Mo rolled his eyes.

“You look like shit all the time,” Mo responded.

“I think it looks fine,” Zhan Zheng Xi cut in. All three of them turned at the sound of his voice. Zheng Xi stared back at them blankly.

“Thank you,” He Tian eventually said. Zhan Zheng Xi shrugged.

The door opened.

“Why didn’t any of you ring the doorbell?” said a deep voice.

“ _ Brother Qui! _ ” Jian Yi screamed. He started towards the man with his arms open. “It’s been so long!” 

The man dodged his advance, inadvertently allowing Jian Yi to step inside.

“No,” Qui monotoned, “it really hasn’t.”

Jian Yi hummed and looked around. 

“I suppose. Time flies like an arrow, fruit flies like a banana and all that. Where’s He Cheng? Having his daily nap? I’ll go start a pot of tea, he gets grumpy in his old age without it,” he said, stepping further into the house.

“No,” Qui said, voice tired but firm. All four of them were familiar with that particular tone from this particular man. “He’s almost done. Just go wait in the living room.”

Jian Yi smiled to himself and turned back around. There were three sets of eyes on him, waiting for his response, and he didn’t bother tempering his satisfaction at the fact that, even outside of combat, his friends seemed to place immense value on his judgement.

“Well,” he said, “you know how we love to wait.”

\---

“What the fuck are we waiting for?” Mo Guan Shan growled. He was near the center of the room, eyes fixed on an excessively large wall clock as he paced. He Tian was watching with rapt attention and a small grin, and Jian Yi was closely watching He Tian watch Mo Guan Shan.

He Tian’s shirt was wrinkled.

Jian Yi couldn’t stop staring at it. His injuries weren’t the issue. A scratch was just about the last of Jian Yi’s worries, and the undereye bags weren’t exactly rare either. Clearly Mo was hurt, and He Tian rarely slept when Mo was on the mend, Jian Yi knew that. The thing about He Tian was that, while he was mostly human, he was 100% He. A crooked cuff, a stray hair, a missed button, these were all mistakes trained out of the He children by the age of four. The fact that He Tian had arrived with a  _ wrinkled shirt _ ? 

Something had to be very wrong with a member of the He family to break a habit as meticulously ingrained as appearing smooth.

“He Cheng had work to finish up,” Zhan Zheng Xi answered next to him, his eyes fixed on the game he was playing on his phone. Mo Guan Shan made a frustrated noise.

“Yeah, I know that. He should’ve just told us to come later.”

Jian Yi watched He Tian’s eyes glimmer.

“Little Mo, if anyone’s telling you when to come it’s going to be-” 

“He Tian, save the inappropriate remarks for later. Mo Guan Shan, please sit down. We have a lot to cover thanks to your team’s inability to communicate the last few days.” He Cheng said as he entered the room. Mo Guan Shan scowled but found a seat next to He Tian.

“We were conducting essential team bonding, Cheng. We needed alone time,” He Tian said, throwing an arm behind Mo Guan Shan to rest on the back of the couch.

“You literally live together,” Xi murmured quietly. He still hadn’t looked up from his phone and Jian Yi couldn’t help but snicker.

“Something funny, Jian Yi?” He Cheng asked. Jian Yi looked at him. He was definitely grumpier than normal, that was apparent in the extra wrinkle between his brows. Good thing Jian Yi knew how to remedy this.

“I was just thinking about the picture Brother Qui uses as his home screen.”

Qui coughed a singular time while He Cheng’s face relaxed entirely, his typical response when he was trying to limit a strong reaction. Regardless, the line between his brow evaporated, and Jian Yi cheered internally.

“The mission,” Cheng said.

“Right!” Jian Yi said, turning towards He Tian and Guan Shan, “The mission.”

“It was a success, mostly,” He Tian stated, sounding bored. “I found the second team in the warehouse district, like you said, and took them out with a few car bombs and a half decent vantage point. Red took out the first team-”

“They were bigger than we thought,” Guan Shan cut in.

“What do you mean?” He Cheng asked.

“Their circle of influence. They were trafficking way more people than we thought, and on a way larger scale. A grunt gave me this,” Mo Guan Shan held up a small flash drive. “It’s a record of their… transactions. It looks like their leader, the woman we took out, was actually a frontman.”

“That makes sense,” Jian Yi said. “Hacking their broadcast was a joke. I was trying to figure out how she managed to run an entire human trafficking ring for this long without getting caught.”

Mo nodded once, face set in a hard frown. “Which means they’re still probably trafficking, but that’s not all. The shit in this,” Mo said, waving the flashdrive in the air gently, “it contains evidence that the real leader, the one nobody talks about, is still out there, and they’re like us.”

The room fell into silence.

“What do you mean ‘like us’?” Jian Yi spoke up.

“I mean they’re a vigilante.”

The room fell silent once more.

“I think we know who it probably is then,” Jian Yi’s started quietly. He looked up at He Cheng. “I mean if it’s someone fucked up enough to  _ sell  _ people, and someone smart enough get away with it, then we all know it has to be Sh-”

“Mo Guan Shan, He Tian, I need you both to come with me,” He Cheng stated stiffly. Jian Yi looked to the two men who shared a troubled glance.

“Why?” Mo Guan Shan asked.

“I need to speak to you.”

“And we can’t speak here?” He Tian asked, his tone cautious. “We’re all on the same team, aren’t we?”

“No, we can’t,” He Cheng stated.

He Tian and Mo shared a second, longer glance. Jian Yi was starting to think they’d finally discovered how to communicate telepathically when something in each of them…changed. He Tian’s mouth curled at the edges and his eyes seemed to darken. He looked slippery, all of the sudden. More like his father. To his left, any softness Mo Guan Shan’s expression had acquired through the years seemed to slough off all at once, leaving him some convoluted combination of sharp and empty. 

Jian Yi wondered if it was possible to be possessed by your past self.

The pair stood. 

“Then by all means,” He Tian smiled softly and gestured towards the hall, “lead the way, brother.”

He Cheng only hesitated for half a second before he turned to leave. Jian Yi watched the three of them walk out in silence.

The room was abruptly silent once again.

“Nice,” he heard Zhan Zheng Xi whisper. Jian Yi looked over at him. His profile was much the same as it always had been. His jawline was still unfairly strong, his eyebrows still stuck out in stark contrast to the lighter shade of his hair, and his expression still naturally fell into a handsome frown.

“What?” he asked, scooting closer to the man and curling up on the couch next to him. They would be waiting for a while.

Zhan Zheng Xi looked up at him and held up his phone. The screen contained three avatars, with one that looked like Zhan Zheng Xi in the middle, holding a knife in his right hand and a trophy in the left.

“I won.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Everyone else in the room: *considering 10,000 things at once, internally mitigating threats, contemplating tactical exits*  
> Zhan Zheng Xi, while everyone is wrapped up in what's happening: goddamnit how the fUCK do I crouch in this game
> 
> I'm a smidgen late on this chapter again. Would you believe me if I said that sometimes, I, a human person who writes, am not always confident in my writing? I also needed to take a second to think. It was never really the plan to show anyone any of my literary works, which is ironic considering now over a thousand people have seen them. I guess I just needed to adjust to being visible. 
> 
> I appreciate you all.  
> Thank you so much for reading.  
> As always, kudos and comments mean the world <3


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